and as Henry was returning, he overtook Ida
Selden and Mary Howard, who were taking their accustomed walk. Since
her conversation with William a weight seemed lifted from Mary's
spirits, and she now was happier far than she ever remembered of
having been before. She was a general favorite in Boston, where all of
her acquaintances vied with each other in making her stay among them
as agreeable as possible. Her facilities for improvement, too, were
great, and what was better than all the rest, George Moreland was to
return much sooner than he at first intended. While she was so happy
herself, Mary could not find it in her heart to be uncourteous to
Henry, and her manner towards him that morning was so kind and affable
that it completely upset him; and when he parted with her at Mr.
Selden's gate, his mind was quite made up to offer her his heart and
hand.

"I shall have to work," thought he, as he entered his room to decide
upon the best means by which to make his intentions known. "I shall
have to work, I know, but for her sake I'd do any thing."

There was a bottle of Madeira standing upon the table and as he
announced his determination of "doing any thing for the sake of Mary
Howard," his eye fell upon his favorite beverage. A deep blush mounted
to his brow, and a fierce struggle between his love for Mary and his
love for the wine-cup ensued. The former conquered, and seizing the
bottle he hurled it against the marble fire jamb, exclaiming, "I'll
be a _man_, a sober man, and never shall the light of Mary's eyes grow
dim with tears wept for a drunken husband!"

Henry was growing eloquent, and lest the inspiration should leave him,
he sat down and wrote to Mary, on paper what he could not tell her
face to face. Had there been a lingering doubt of her acceptance, he
would undoubtedly have wasted at least a dozen sheets of the tiny
gilt-edged paper, but as it was, one would suffice, for _she_ would
not scrutinize his handwriting,--_she_ would not count the blots, or
mark the omission of punctuating pauses. She would almost say _yes_
before she read it. So the letter, which contained a sincere apology
for his uncivil treatment of her in former years, and an ardent
declaration of love for her now, was written sealed, and directed, and
then there was a gentle rap upon the door. Jenny wished to come in for
a book which was lying upon the table.

Henry had resolved to keep his family ignorant of his intentions, but
at the